


Always, that's what you said

by LoftyLou22



Category: Emmerdale
Genre: M/M, car crash, possible death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-25
Updated: 2018-08-25
Packaged: 2019-07-02 09:36:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15793857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoftyLou22/pseuds/LoftyLou22
Summary: A door bangs open, and someone rushes inside. Aaron's staring up at the ceiling, can't move his neck to look, but he knows it's Robert before he even says a word.'Aaron? God, Aaron, look at you. What happened, what were you doing driving around in this weather? This isn't happening; you shouldn't even be here. You should be at the scrapyard. You were at the scrapyard when I left. Why would you-' he breaks off, and the sound of shaking breaths and choking gulps fills the sterile air of the hospital room.





	Always, that's what you said

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be a simple wet shirt PWP in the vein of Mr. Darcy (circa. 2008's Lost in Austen not 1995's Pride and Prejudice. Sorry, Colin.), but it ended up becoming something very different. I blame the storm we had last night for making me go all maudlin and melodramatic! 
> 
> I really wasn't sure how to tag this, so if you think I need to change/add anything, just let me know. 
> 
> Thanks for reading.

Aaron's still at the scrapyard when the heavens open. There's next to no warning; one minute the August sun is beating down on his back, making the exposed skin of his nape prickle, and the next thick black clouds have swept across the sky, cutting out the light as swiftly and completely as a pair of curtains drawing closed.

Swearing, he fumbles to pull his hood up over his head. He glances down at the car he's in the middle of gutting, judging that it'll take him the best part of another hour to get it finished. The rain's already coming down in sheets, bouncing off the rusting metal in front of him and making it hard to see. He checks his watch. It's only half past three, and he knows only too well that there's a stack of paperwork waiting for him in the dry of the cabin. He should go inside, work his way through it while the weather's bad.

He _should_ , only he's tired and he's getting wet and there's no one here to get on his case if he clocks off early. Robert wouldn't even have to know. He's off in Leeds, attending some meeting that'll keep him busy for hours yet.

Aaron thinks about it, hand coming down to absentmindedly fiddle with the car keys in his hoodie pocket. He curls his fingers around the fob, jiggles it up and down in his palm; pretends to weigh up his options. He starts moving just as a rumble of thunder echoes through the air, tidying away his tools and making sure the door to the cabin is locked before he pulls out his keys and runs over to the car, head angled down to avoid the worst of the rain.

He feels a twinge of guilt as he drives away, and turns on the radio to distract himself from it. Taylor Swift screeches through the speakers and he reaches for the dial, cursing Robert for leaving it tuned into Heart FM. He flicks through the channels until he finds something that doesn't make him want to stick screwdrivers in his ears and twist until they meet in the middle.

There are a million reasons why he's marrying Robert Sugden for a second time, but his taste in music definitely isn't one of them.

The drive back is quiet but slow. No one's pushing the speed limit in these conditions. It's dark enough that most people have grudgingly resorted to turning their headlights on in the middle of the afternoon. The wind's picked up and the rain is waging war on Aaron's windscreen wipers, all but daring them to keep up as it hammers down thick and fast against the glass. He leans forward in his seat, squinting to try and make the blurry shapes in front of him resemble what they should.

He turns a corner and there's a car tucked up tight against the verge, hazard lights flashing. He swerves to avoid it, tyres clattering over the line of cat's eyes in the middle of the road. He hears the ugly screech of rubber against wet tarmac, feels something plough into him with the force of a battering ram. His face slams into the steering wheel and warm, coppery blood fills his mouth, stinging at his tongue. He tries to move, knows he needs to call for help, but it's dark and cold and everything hurts. Aaron's eyes slip shut, and it feels like peace.

-

It's dark when he wakes.

He blinks, trying to clear his head, but it feels soft and sore, like a bruise that's just been poked. There's a stab of pain in his left leg, and he gasps as he stretches it out, calf muscles cramping.

Aaron yawns and rolls over on the couch, shaking the pins and needles out of his leg before curling back up under the duvet he's hauled down from their bedroom to cover himself with. He can still hear the rain smacking against the windows of the Mill, loud enough to drown out whatever Vin Diesel is mumbling about on the telly. There hadn't been anything good on when he'd sat down for his tea, so he'd stuck an old Fast and Furious DVD in the machine to help pass the time.

He'd only made it half an hour before his eyes had grown heavy, falling asleep with the plate still balanced on his lap and a patch of dried pasta sauce caked in the crease of his cheek. Aaron scratches at it now, sitting up on the couch and wondering just how long he's been sleeping for.

He's grouping around for his phone, wanting to check the time, when he hears the familiar sound of tyres crunching over gravel. A car door slams and then there's the pounding of running feet before the front door opens and Robert's there, grumbling about the weather as he dumps his things by the fireplace and shakes the rainwater from his flattened hair like a dog drying itself after a swim.

He's facing away from Aaron, his formal white shirt soaked through so that it clings to every plain and muscle of his long, broad back. Aaron watches him as he moves, the flickering light of the telly dancing across the wet material, licking at it like a naked flame. The arches of Robert's shoulder blades ripple beneath the fabric, and Aaron feels warmth pool low in his belly at the sight.

He wraps his hand over the curve of the armrest, digs his fingers in to stop himself from getting up and going over to him. There's no urgency anymore, nowhere else either of them needs to be. They have the whole night in front of them, so where's the sense in rushing? Aaron leans back, lets himself enjoy the view.

He doesn't think he makes a noise, but Robert must sense something because he spins around, eyes seeking out Aaron like a pair of homing beacons locking onto their target.

'I didn't see you there,' he says. 'What are you doing sitting all alone in the dark?'

Aaron shrugs. 'Fell asleep.'

'What time did you get back? It's chucking it down out there now; I got drenched just walking in from the car.'

'Bout quarter to six.' Aaron says, running his palms back and forth over his knees a few times before he heaves himself to his feet. 'I know. It started when I was at the scrapyard.'

'Did you come home early?' Robert accuses, eyes dropping down to stare at Aaron's old t-shirt and jogging bottoms combo.

Aaron's lips twitch. He should be annoyed at Robert's perceptiveness, but he's always gotten a secret thrill at the thought of just how well his husband knows him. 'Thought about it. Decided I'd better knuckle down and tackle that pile of paperwork instead, though.'

Robert's eyes widen. 'Seriously? Did you make a dent in it?'

Aaron wants to laugh at the eagerness in Robert's tone. Only he could get this excited about the thought of returning to a tidier office. 'Yeah.'

'A big one?'

'Yeah.' Aaron breathes, stepping closer. He stopped listening a while ago, got distracted by the outline of Robert's pecs through his wet shirt. His nipples are dark and hard and they're pushing against the cloth like they're begging for Aaron to set them free. He's never been one to disappoint.

Robert's expression darkens as Aaron draws near, his voice dropping lower, and, just like that, they're not talking about the paperwork anymore. 'How big?'

Aaron steps back towards the couch, doesn't even have to look up to know that Robert is following. 'Why don't you come and see?'

Robert doesn't need telling twice. He never does. Before Aaron can take another step his husband is on him, cold lips at his throat and firm hands at his waist.

He sinks his hands into Robert's hair, not caring that it's still wet, and uses it to anchor himself as Robert starts taking him expertly apart. His jogging bottoms disappear in an instant, and then his t-shirt goes the same way and Aaron shivers as Robert moves closer, pressing his damp body against bare, goose-pimpled skin.

'Rob,' he sighs as he falls back against the couch cushions, looks up at the man towering over him, body coiled tight in anticipation. 'Robert.'

-

'Robert.'

'What? What was that?'

'Did he say something?'

'Shut up a minute, I'm trying to listen.'

Aaron groans, his body a burning mass of pain. He licks at his lips, tries again. 'Robert.'

'Is that your name, mate?' A man says, leaning in towards Aaron through the shattered driver's side window, careful to avoid the broken glass. The man looks young, big brown eyes staring out of a pale, pimply face. He's more of a boy really, Aaron thinks, probably not lost passed his test. One of those overly-cautious types you see driving around with a green P sticker stuck to their rear window a full six months after they've gotten their license. He looks scared, and Aaron wants to reach out to him, to tell him it'll be alright, but he can't seem to move his arm. Can't seem to move anything, if he's honest with himself.

The thought should worry him more than it does, but there's no room in his head for fear at the moment. Even if there was, he hasn't got enough energy to panic. He feels empty, gutted; drained of everything that matters. He wishes Robert would come and take him home.

'Just hold on, Robert.' The boy is saying, his words making no sense. Robert isn't here, Aaron would know if he was. He always knows when Robert's nearby, feels it like an itch under his skin. An itch he's never been able to stop himself from scratching.

The boy turns, addressing a girl standing behind him. She hasn't got a coat on, and her long blond hair is hanging in limp, dripping strands around her narrow face. _Rat's tails_ , his mum would say, if she was here. The girl is holding a phone to her ear, clamping it against her cheek with a shaking hand. 'Are they coming?'

The girl nods, eyes looking everywhere but Aaron. 'They'll be here as soon as they can.'

'You hear that, mate?' The boy says, the relief in his voice bubbling over into a braying sort of laugh. He reminds Aaron of how Finn used to be, all angles and awkwardness, not yet comfortable inside his own skin. 'You're going to be fine. The ambulance will be here in a minute, and they'll patch you up. You'll be as good as new in no time, just you wait and see.'

Aaron tries to smile, the effort exhausting him. In the distance, a siren starts to scream.

-

The piercing cry of a siren rips through the room and makes them both jump.

'Shit!' Robert exclaims, clutching a hand to his wet chest. 'Turn that thing off, will you?'

Laughing, Aaron fumbles around until he finds the remote. Instead of turning the telly off, he presses the mute button. He's enjoying the way the light from the screen plays across Robert's skin too much to want to plunge the living room into total darkness.

Outside, the wind howls through the trees, and Aaron shivers, pulling the duvet closer around himself as he lies back and waits for Robert to join him.

He smiles as Robert starts to strip, catching his husband's eye and scoffing at the self-satisfied expression he finds there. He shouldn't be surprised: there's nothing Robert loves more than an audience, and Aaron's always been his favourite spectator.

He kicks off his shoes with all the flair and flourish of a Vegas showgirl performing the Can-can, and shimmies out of his trousers with a roll of his hips so x-rated that it should be illegal. His boxers follow not long after, and then his hands slip up to undo the buttons of his shirt. He's halfway through shrugging it off his shoulders when Aaron stops him.

'Leave it on.'

Robert pauses. 'Seriously?'

Aaron shrugs, acts as though it doesn't really matter to him either way. He wishes he hadn't said anything now, only the rain's made the shirt almost see through, and the way it's plastered across Robert's back and arms like a second skin is doing things to Aaron's insides that it probably shouldn't.

Robert screws his face up. 'But it'll make the duvet all damp.'

Aaron wants to laugh at his old lady logic, but he knows that won't get him want he wants. Instead he tilts his chin up, eyes hard and challenging in a way that never fails to make Robert throw all caution to the wind. It's this exact look that got him an angry kiss in a deserted layby, many moons ago.

Sure enough, his husband holds out for all of six seconds (Almost a personal record, married life must be making Aaron soft.) before he tugs his shirt back up over his shoulders with a put upon sigh. 'The things you make me do.' he huffs, ducking down to fuse his mouth against Aaron's.

The kiss is brutal, a clash of lips and tongue and teeth that heats Aaron's blood like nothing else. He reaches up to pull Robert down on top of him, duvet be damned.

Aaron runs his hands up and down Robert's back, from the top of his spine to the delicate depression just above his arse cheeks. He rocks their hips together, and hisses as his hardening dick slides along the length of Robert's.

'Touch me,' he says, gritting the words out between clenched teeth. He'd do it himself, but he's too busy digging his fingers into the meat of Robert's biceps, fixated by the way they bulge and ripple beneath his shirt.

He grunts when Robert manages to get a hand between them, his long fingers curving around Aaron, stroking him long and slow, his grip just the right side of too tight.

The open sides of Robert's shirt fall down either side of Aaron's abdomen as they begin to rock, cocooning him in a sheet of white. He shivers at the sensation of being wrapped up tight like this with Robert, the two of them tucked up together, safe and warm, cut adrift from the rest of the world.

He sinks his fingers into the flesh of Robert's shoulder blades, entangles their legs and urges him to go faster.

Robert, like the irritating git that he is, only slows the pace, loosening his hold on Aaron until his hand slips away completely.

'What are you-' Aaron starts to say, breaking off with a whimper when Robert lines his dick up against Aaron's, encircling them both in his palm. They don't do it like this often. It's clumsy and rough and it makes Aaron come so quick that it's almost embarrassing.

'Rob,' he groans, throwing his head back and arching his neck when Robert seals his lips against the ridge of Aaron's collar bone. Robert laves and sucks, forcing the blood to the surface, and Aaron knows he'll have a hell of a bruise there tomorrow morning. He should push him off, yell at him for getting all possessive, but it feels so good that he can do nothing more than lay back and take it.

Aaron bucks his hips, driving himself against Robert's palm, his shaft sliding along the hard line of Robert's with a blistering sort of friction that makes his lungs empty. He gasps, writhing against Robert as he comes, his hands gripping and clutching at Robert's back like a drowning man grabbing at a life raft.

He slides one hand down to wrap it around Robert's fist, jerks him with fast, blunt strokes until Robert shudders and stills above him, his eyes losing focus as he spurts his release onto Aaron's stomach. Aaron works him through the aftershocks, pumping slowly until Robert whines and bats his hand away.

'Think I might start taking showers with my clothes on, if this is what it does to you.' Robert says, laughing breathlessly.

'Don't know what you're talking about.' Aaron grouses, pushing at him.

Robert grins, flopping down on top of Aaron and nuzzling his cold nose into the hollow behind Aaron's ear. 'Course you don't.'

Aaron should shrug him off, herd him upstairs so they can stretch out on their bed. The couch isn't big enough for the both of them. They'll be stiff as hell in the morning if they fall asleep like this, and not in a good, start the day off on a high sort of way.

 _Five minutes_ , Aaron tells himself. _Five minutes, and then we'll go up_. Stifling a yawn, he turns his head towards Robert's, kisses his forehead, and lets himself drift.

-

Aaron's drifting. He can't seem to focus. He keeps slipping in and out of consciousness, closing his eyes one moment only to open them the next and find himself in a completely different place, surrounded by nameless, faceless strangers who all rush around with grim expressions, doing and saying things he doesn't understand.

First he's by the roadside, listening to the boy and girl argue about how long it's been since she hung up the phone. Then he's in the back of an ambulance, a woman in a brightly coloured jacket leaning over him as she writes something on a clipboard. Then he's on a trolley, tearing through a maze of corridors flanked by narrow white walls. Next he's in a bed, his body hooked up to machines that trill and beep like something out of that sci-fi programme Robert likes to watch on a Saturday night. The one where the main character never dies, just changes their face.

Aaron wishes he could swap his body for someone else's. He'd find one without any scars, old or new; one that doesn't hurt to lie inside.

A door bangs open, and someone rushes inside. He's staring up at the ceiling, can't move his neck to look, but he knows it's Robert before he even says a word.

'Aaron? God, Aaron, look at you. What happened, what were you doing driving around in this weather? This isn't happening; you shouldn't even be here. You should be at the scrapyard. You were at the scrapyard when I left. Why would you-' he breaks off, and the sound of shaking breaths and choking gulps fills the sterile air of the hospital room.

The squeak of rubber soles on lino is enough to tell him that Robert is pacing. He can picture him striding up and down by the window, hands pulling at his hair until it sticks up at all angles, his knuckles clenched so tight they look like they're in danger of piercing through the skin.

He wants to tell him to stop, to call him over to the bed so he can see him properly, but he can't make the words come out. His mouth is as dry as a desert, his tongue raw and painful like he's spent the last few hours gargling sand.

He tries to swallow, but ends up choking, harsh, hacking coughs wracking his body and making his eyes water and burn.

Robert's there in an instant, slipping a palm beneath his head and angling him up so that he can slip an ice chip between his cracked lips. Unable to suck, Aaron lies still and lets it melt away to nothing on his tongue, grateful for the moisture.

He looks at Robert. He's wearing a suit, the shoulders of his jacket speckled with water droplets. His hair's wet, curling at the ends, and Aaron wants to touch it. Hates that he can't.

'Sorry,' he whispers, although it's not the coughing fit that he's apologising for.

Robert nods his head like he understands. His eyes are rimmed with red, bloodshot in the centres. He's aged a hundred years since the last time Aaron saw him.

'You've got a nasty bruise on your neck.' he says, trying to tease. 'Did you let the paramedic give you a hickey on the journey here?'

Aaron blinks, and Robert runs the tips of his fingers down Aaron's cheek so softly he can barely even feel it. He brings them to rest on Aaron's bottom lip. 'C'mon now,' he says, bending close, his smile so forced that Aaron can't bear to look at it. 'We both know you've got a thing for medical staff.'

He shakes his head, presses his lips up to meet the fleshy pads of Robert's fingers. 'Only you.' he breathes, meaning it. Robert sucks in a breath, snatches his hand back like it's been burnt. Glares.

'If you die because you wanted to skive a measly hour off work then I swear to God, Aaron, I'll hunt you down in the afterlife and murder you myself.'

'Two hours.' Aaron corrects, and Robert huffs out a laugh that sounds like a sob.

'You're unbelievable, you are. I don't know why I even put up with you.'

Aaron does though. He knows it like he knows his own name, with a certainty that calms the fear swirling up inside of him. Nothing and no one can rob him of Robert's love. Not Chrissie, or Gordon, or prison, or Rebecca. Not this, either. Especially not this.

'Love you,' he says, needing Robert to know it, to hold onto it even if he can't hold onto Aaron.

'Don't.' Robert hisses, angrier than Aaron's ever seen him. 'Don't you dare. You're not dying on me now, Dingle. You think I went to all the effort of proposing to you twice just to have you keel over before you make it up the aisle? Me and you, we're going to be together always. You hear that? Always, Aaron. I'm not messing around here.'

Aaron reaches out, links their left hands together so that their rings clink. It's his favourite sound. 'Always.'

Robert nods his head, the movement stiff and almost violent, like he's trying to convince himself as much as Aaron. 'That's right. Now, say it again.'

Aaron starts to, but then the machine to his left starts beeping, the noise insistent and terrifying, and his vision goes blurry. There are people running into the room, and they're shouting, pulling at Robert until he has no choice but to let go of Aaron's hand. They drag him away from the bed, pulling him out of the room as he cries and struggles against them, tears streaming down his blotchy cheeks like raindrops on glass.

'Aaron!' he calls, desperate now, as he's pushed through the door. 'Aaron!'

'Rob-' he tries to reply, his breath failing him as more than just his husband's name dies on Aaron's lips.

-

He wakes with a cry, his heart slamming against his rib cage like a football being kicked against the side of a house. He sits up on the sofa and clutches at his chest, struggling to regain his breath.

'What is it?' Robert asks, a warm hand at his back and a soft voice in his ear. 'What did you dream about?'

'Car accident.'

Robert stiffens. 'Were we in the lake again? It's just a memory, Aaron. It can't hurt you now. You're safe here with me.'

He shakes his head, fighting to clear it. It had all felt so real, like something he'd actually lived through instead of just dreamt about. 'Not that car crash. This was different. It was just me.'

'You?' Robert says, pursing up his lips like he wants to stop the word from getting through.

'Yeah. I skipped out of work early. Got hit by another car. I-I don't think I made it. In the dream, I mean.'

'It doesn't matter,' Robert says, wrapping his arm around Aaron's shoulders and pulling him back down under the duvet. He's taken off his shirt now, and his chest feels cool and solid against the line of Aaron's back.

The credits of the film roll across the tv screen, and Robert reaches for the remote. He presses a button and the room falls into darkness. 'It'll be that stupid movie that's got you thinking like this,' he says, mouth pressed tight to Aaron's ear. 'All those cars smashing into each other, it's enough to give anyone nightmares.'

Aaron nods, pretends to agree. It's so dark that he can't see his hand in front of his own face, much less Robert, but he can feel him stretched out behind him, covering Aaron's body like a shield, protecting him from everything, even the thoughts inside his own head.

It's quiet, so quiet that Aaron realises the rain must finally have stopped. He relaxes back into Robert, thinks about letting it go, about simply falling back to sleep, but he can't quite bring himself to do it. He needs to know for sure.

'When I was in -in my dream- in the hospital, just before I died, you said something to me. Something important.'

'Hmm, did I?' Robert murmurs sleepily, planting a kiss against Aaron's earlobe as he cuddles down.

'Yeah. You said we were going to be together always. Like it was a fact, like you'd make it happen, no matter what.' Aaron pauses, unsure whether to go on. 'Did you...did you mean it?'

'You know I did.' Robert says, the fingers of his left hand slipping through Aaron's.

Their rings clink together, and Aaron smiles. 'Good.'


End file.
